Break in the Sun
by A Drop of Starlight
Summary: Lovino Vargas is a bitter thirteen-year-old with only four months to live. But along comes a cheerful Spanish boy named Antonio, bringing with him the one thing Lovino doesn't yet have - love.


**Break in the Sun**

* * *

_They shall have stars at elbow and foot;  
__Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;  
__Though lovers be lost love shall not;  
__And death shall have no dominion._

* * *

The sun is bright and vicious on the day they come to visit. It always is, and they always come to see him, but today Lovino finds it particularly unbearable. In a room of white walls, white curtains, white beds and other things, the simple act of opening his eyes is pure torture.

His brother and grandfather are blinded, too, but he pretends not to notice their tears.

"Hey," he greets them, his voice uncomfortable and thick with disuse. Feliciano instantly breaks ranks and runs to him.

"_Fratello_," he cries, and as if his voice isn't enough to wake the other patients, he clambers up onto the bed. "_Fratello_ - you've gotten thi - I mean, I've missed you so much-!"

Feliciano is ten, and still not much good at concealing his emotions, but Lovino can't blame him. If it had been Feli lying there, with the little tube in his arm and his face pale and his eyes dull - but he keeps a straight face and rubs the water from his brother's cheeks.

"How are you?" he manages.

"We - we're great, doing great!" Feliciano suddenly takes on an air of childish seriousness. "Did you know, I'm going to graduate this year! Nonno's going to invite everyone and he says he'll get the nurses to let you go too! And - and it'll be so much fun - with you there - " His voice cracks a little.

Lovino pats his head, his brother's _real _hair smooth under his fingers, not scratchy like his own old wig. He can feel Feliciano shudder with suppressed sobs. Even his grandfather is blinking a little more than he should be. No one mentions the fact that it is another four months before Feli's graduation, four more months, and who knows if Lovino will even make it through this long -

"I - I'll make _sure _they let me out of this damn place by then. I'll fucking sneak out if I have to," he declares and Feliciano laughs weakly. Their grandfather gives Lovino a small smile and ruffles his hair, a rare gesture of affection.

"Take care of yourself, son," he says. "And easy on the swearing."

Lovino musters a grin in response. "I'll try."

But that still doesn't stop him from whispering _fuck_, when they're gone and the pain comes back still worse.

* * *

He doesn't like it here; he never has. Even here - _especially _here - the sun is too strong for his pale skin and too bright for his tired eyes. But first thing in the morning, Nurse Bella comes in and draws back the curtains. She doesn't know how the living growing trees outside are always too much for Lovino. And so he turns his head away, inward, to focus on the refreshing blank walls. Even though the sun lights them up like white fire.

Sure, he has company, but he doesn't make a habit of starting conversation. He has nothing to talk about, he has nothing to look forward to. And yet the other kids are cheerful in spite of everything. Lovino supposes they must see something he doesn't.

Especially one boy named Alfred, who is two years younger and occupies the bed on the right, who loves bombarding Lovino with his latest crayoned drawings and paper planes. He's the happiest of the lot, always telling jokes and laughing at them even if no one else does. Annoying to Lovino, but sometimes he is bearable. Like the one time he saw Lovino crying and gave him his favorite balloon, the one with YOU ARE A HERO written on it.

But, Lovino muses, how hard it is to think about someone when you know they will leave, sooner or later. He knows this better than anyone else, because he has seen too many come and go. So he doesn't join in Alfred's fun; it's more interesting seeing the other kids' reactions when he tells them to _fuck off_.

Then Nurse Bella speaks with him. Nurse Bella whom he hates because she is too gentle, her eyes too warm, her hair too real. And she cries for them; he has seen it and regretted it. She tells him to try and get along with the other children - all the nurses say that - but how can he?

Instead he lies in bed with the needle in his vein, listening to the soft plinks from the IV bag and counting down the days until Feli's graduation. Not thinking, never thinking, because thinking leads to feelings and he already has enough pain to deal with.

Lovino Vargas has lived in this ward for exactly three months, three weeks, two days, six hours, and fifty-three minutes - and he hates it, with every fiber of his being.

He hates this place with its sunny skies and kind nurses and blank rooms and poor sick children. He hates being a part of this. He hates that he cannot live like Feliciano, like everyone else outside of this prison.

He is thirteen years old and he is angry, impossibly angry.

Because he knows, as no child should know, that he is dying.

* * *

A new patient is moving in - the nurses announce it two days after Feliciano and Nonno's visit. The bed to Lovino's left, empty since a little boy named Peter disappeared, has been remade and Lovino glares at it as if it will combust under his gaze. There's no way any newcomer can replace the ones who have gone; Lovino knows this better than anyone else. And how can he possibly welcome someone to such a dreary place?

The other children, all younger than him, either don't share his feelings or don't show it. He can hear their excited whispers all the way from his corner of the room. And they only get louder as they hear people approach the doorway, with Alfred clamoring to greet him first.

"Hello!" he shouts, practically jumping on the new boy.

"¡Hola!"

_Spanish_.

The boy enters the room and Lovino finds it hard to look away.

He doesn't look as pale as the other children, but that's because his skin is naturally tan. His hair is brown, too - although it's probably a wig like everyone else's. But his eyes - they are green, green like the trees outside Lovino's windows. And he is _smiling_. Enough to light up the whole room ten times over.

The first thought that hits Lovino is that he is beautiful. An almost otherworldly kind of beautiful.

"I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, nice to meet you!"

With a little jolt, Lovino realizes the new boy is slowly making his way over. His feet are a little clumsy, as though he isn't accustomed to walking. But his hand is stretched out in a friendly manner and his face still holds that smile.

Lovino tries to look away, but everyone is watching him now, even Nurse Bella.

"What's your name?" the boy - Antonio - asks.

"I -"

He looks around at them all. They're expecting him to turn down the offer of friendship, as he always has. They know he's angry, they know he's afraid and they know that's what makes him cold.

"Me? I'm Lovino Vargas," he says finally, and does not take the proffered hand. Antonio is watching him curiously, as though he has never seen a Lovino before.

"Lovino," he repeats slowly.

"_Lovi,_" Alfred stage-whispers from somewhere in the crowd. Lovino glares daggers at him, but the damage has been done. Antonio's eyes have lit up like ornaments on a Christmas tree.

"_LOVI!"_ he exclaims delightedly.

"_Don't call me that!"_

But Antonio looks so damn pleased with himself, and he's smiling so earnestly, and Lovino's name sounds like music on his tongue. Quickly Lovino turns away to hide his burning cheeks.

"Go away," he grumbles. "I don't want to talk to you."

He doesn't see Antonio's face fall. He tells himself that he doesn't care. It's hard to look into those green eyes anyway - what if he gets sucked in and drowns and never gets back out?

"Lovino!" Nurse Bella is saying. "Please be nicer to him from now on."

"Fine."

Lovino burrows under the blankets instead to avoid the other kids.

He doesn't want Antonio near him because it will hurt. It already does. They're too different. He can't get attached - and especially not this quickly - not to another bright spirit about to be taken away.

But Lovino realizes he can't escape, because Antonio has taken the bed on his left.

"I think we'll be great friends," he says with his stupid smile, and Lovino can't look at him anymore.

* * *

The first time Lovino actually talks to him is during one of those days when he doesn't talk at all.

Today Lovino can't get out of bed, because he feels tired to the bone. The medicine and the tiredness run through his veins together, and all he can do is groan as he watches the other, more able children follow the nurses outside. Some go by foot, some by wheelchair, but it is all the same. Everyone will get fresh air today except Lovino.

His only consolation is Alfred, who only leaves after reminding Lovino, "I'll bring you flowers when I get back!"

Lovino gives him a snarl instead of a "See you later" and rolls over angrily as the door closes.

He is suddenly met by an inquisitive face gazing down at him with huge green eyes.

"Hi Lovi!"

Quickly, Lovino rolls the other way, but Antonio is fast and appears before his face ten seconds later.

"Lovi! Don't worry, you're not alone. I'm staying here too, you know!"

Lovino glares at him, and wants to cover his eyes, but his arm is too tired to move. He settles for a low growl that comes out more like a moan. Antonio's enthusiasm fades into something like concern.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "Do you want me to call the nurse?"

"No," rasps Lovino. "I'm tired. Now fuck off."

Antonio pats Lovino's arm, and the simple touch brings a strange sensation. "I'm tired too. But if you can't sleep, we can talk! Talking helps you forget the tiredness."

"Like hell it does."

"Have you tried it? You should!"

"Never."

"You're doing it right now, see? Isn't it better?"

And that's how their first conversation begins.

* * *

Antonio starts off by asking him ridiculous things.

He sits on the edge of Lovino's bed and smiles at him.

"How old are you?"

"Thirteen," Lovino mutters, not bothering to sit up. "You?"

"Fourteen." Antonio grins widely. "We're the oldest ones here! Isn't that nice?"

"No."

"But all the other kids will look up to us! It's like we're their older brothers." Lovino snorts and Antonio turns to him. "Do you have a brother?"

"One." Lovino doesn't want to talk about this. "His name is Feliciano."

"I bet he's awesome like you!"

"He's young and healthy and strong. He's ten years old. He goes to school and he has friends and - and he has a long life ahead of him. He actually has a fucking future instead of fucking lymphoma. And you dare say he's like _me_."

"Oh, Lovi... I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

Lovino knows he didn't, but he is still angry. "Don't talk to me."

"But I want to."

That one statement should not be enough to make his heart speed up. It shouldn't be.

"How - how about you." Lovino manages to keep his voice level. "Do _you_ have a brother? Or sister?"

"I did." Antonio smiles sadly, and for the first time Lovino notices the dark circles under his eyes. "Carlos would've been twelve by now. He had leukemia. I do too."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry," says Lovino weakly.

"It's okay. He's in a better place now. I used to be sad, but sometimes I think I feel him watching me. He's not as far away anymore - you know, I don't think he ever was. He was such a nice brother... Maybe that's why they let him stay closer."

Lovino has to blink hard and look away.

* * *

Antonio, like him, doesn't get many visitors. Only his mother comes to see him - a short brown-haired woman with the same kind green eyes, who visits three times a week and embraces her son and cries. Whenever that happens, Lovino pretends to be asleep so he can hide his own eyes.

But from the first Antonio tells his mother about his 'best friend' Lovino Vargas; and even though Lovino's face always has traces of anger, Mrs. Carriedo takes one look at him and reaches over to hug him too.

"It's been a long time since my Antonio's had friends like you," she says, her voice a little shaky. Sometimes Lovino wonders if he's really as special as Mrs. Carriedo thinks he is.

Lovino also learns that Antonio has been to two hospitals before this, and that he has only three months left, three while Lovino has four but the doctors are always wrong.

"You know what I'm going to do, Lovi?" Antonio says one morning.

"What?"

"I'm going to live my whole life in these three months."

* * *

He doesn't know why he even tolerates Antonio - or more accurately, why Antonio tolerates him.

Maybe the boy has something Lovino doesn't, and that's why he accepts everyone, even Lovino. Maybe that's why Lovino, in turn, is drawn to him.

It can't be anything else. Not the way Antonio so easily makes friends with the other kids. Not the way Antonio smiles at him when Lovino reads aloud from his books. Not the way Antonio asks him, "Do you like that boy?" when Alfred brings back flowers on the days Lovino is too tired to go for walks.

"Of course I don't like him," Lovino says immediately, to a mock-hurt face from Alfred, who he knows is at most _a friend_, and nothing more.

And he tries to ignore how relieved Antonio looks.

But they talk.

The days pass.

And Lovino realizes how lonely it is to lie sullenly in bed all the time, how sad it would be to spend his last months like this - when all he has to do is turn to the happy Spanish boy nearby, and everything will feel just a little bit better.

He thinks maybe - just _maybe_ - he doesn't feel as angry anymore.

* * *

"I have more paper for you guys!"

Nurse Bella is slightly out of breath, her golden hair escaping from its bun, probably because she ran all the way from the lobby downstairs.

"Does anyone want to draw?"

All the kids raise their hands excitedly as she passes out crayons and markers. The nurse pauses at Lovino's bed.

"Are you feeling better today, darling?"

"Just peachy." Lovino sits up by himself to prove it. "I want to write. Could I have a pen, please?"

He knows all the other children are giving him weird looks - did Lovino Vargas just say _please_? - but he ignores it. And he takes the paper and pen and starts scribbling with it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Antonio talking to Alfred and helping to fold paper planes. Neither looks over, and Lovino feels a little twinge as he sees how happy their thin faces look, how much they enjoy each other's company. But he decides he doesn't care, and averts his gaze and continues to write.

Then a paper plane hits him squarely in the right ear.

"Oh! Bulls-eye!" Alfred shouts and does a fistpump. Antonio laughs. Lovino glares at the two of them.

"Fuck off."

Luckily Nurse Bella has just left the room, and all Lovino has to deal with are the crestfallen faces of two boys.

"Aww, Lovi! We were just having fun," Alfred says. "Did you see what I drew on there?"

Lovino picks up the plane. On it is a lopsided drawing of a man, wearing a shirt that reads HERO in big blue letters, reaching up with one hand to grab a hamburger. Lovino snorts and, picking up his red and green crayons, colors in the head so it looks like a tomato. Alfred isn't pleased when he throws back the beautified plane.

"He looks like a tomato man now!" he groans.

"But tomatoes are nice!" Antonio interjects. "They taste so good - I wish they served them here, don't you, Lovi?"

"Hell, yes."

"You know, you kind of look like a tomato sometimes!"

"Shut up, I'm a boy. How the hell could I look like a tomato?"

Antonio grins. "When your face turns a little red - like that! You're blushing, aren't you!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am _not_!"

"Are _too_!"

"I want a hamburger," Alfred complains, and they both turn to him, argument broken. Antonio sighs.

"I want a tomato."

"I want to write in peace. Now stop throwing your planes at me, or else." Lovino huffs and goes on with his slow, careful writing. He tries to keep his hand steady as he hears Antonio coming closer.

"What're you writing, Lovi?"

"Nothing."

"Let me see?" Antonio whines, and his face looks so unhappy that Lovino gives in, just this once. The boy squints at the uneven words written in orange ink, then straightens up, hopelessly confused.

"That's not English!"

"Of course it isn't, dummy." Lovino rolls his eyes. "It's Italian."

"Oh! You're Italian!"

"No shit," Lovino deadpans.

Antonio hovers over the paper once more, his brows scrunched up in concentration, as if the words will suddenly make sense if he thinks hard enough. His lashes cast dark shadows over his face.

"Lovi, read it to me!"

He makes puppy eyes again, and Lovino sighs because he has no other choice.

"_Non andartene docile in quella buona notte_..."

"What does that mean?" Antonio asks immediately.

"Can't you wait until I'm finished?" Lovino grumbles, but tells him anyway. "It means, _Do not go gentle into that good night_."

Antonio falls silent and listens as he reads again.

"_Non andartene docile in quella buona notte,  
__I vecchi dovrebbero bruciare e delirare al serrarsi del giorno;  
__Infuria, infuria, contro il morire della luce._

"_Benché i saggi conoscano alla fine che la tenebra è giusta  
__Perché dalle loro parole non diramarono fulmini  
__Non se ne vanno docili in quella buona notte_.

"_I probi, con l'ultima onda, gridando quanto splendide  
__Le loro deboli gesta danzerebbero in una verde baia,  
__S'infuriano, s'infuriano contro il morire della luce._"

Antonio is staring at him, with an expression in his green eyes that Lovino can't place.

"_Gli implusivi che il sole presero al volo e cantarono,  
__Troppo tardi imparando d'averne afflitto il cammino,  
__Non se ne vanno docili in quella buona notte._

"_Gli austeri, prossimi alla morte, con cieca vista accorgendosi  
__Che occhi spenti potevano brillare come meteore e gioire  
__S'infuriano, s'infuriano contro il morire della luce._

"_E tu, padre mio, là sulla triste altura maledicimi,  
__Benedicimi, ora, con le tue lacrime furiose, te ne prego_."

By now all the other children have quieted and turned to watch him as he reads the final lines.

"_Non andartene docile in quella buona notte.  
__Infuriati, infuriati contro il morire della luce_."

Lovino's voice trails off and he suddenly becomes aware of the silence in the room. All eyes are on him. He doesn't know what to think.

Then Antonio begins to clap, Alfred begins to clap, and everyone else follows suit. They are clapping, all clapping - for Lovino. For _him_.

The only thing Lovino can hear through the applause is Antonio's voice.

"Lovi - that was beautiful."

And for the first time in a long time, his heart feels just a little bit warmer.

* * *

"Hey - hey, Lovi! Are you awake?"

Lovino turns over, and in the darkness he can just see Antonio grinning at him. He looks even thinner and paler like this, with the moonlight streaming in through the windows, bringing out all the shadows on his face.

"I'm always awake," Lovino responds, but without irritation. "What?"

"You still didn't tell me what the whole poem means. It was a poem, right?"

"Of course it was. You really want to know?"

"Yes!"

Antonio looks around quickly, to make sure the other children are all asleep. Then he lightly slides down from his bed and comes over to Lovino. His eyes are huge from this angle, and Lovino finds it difficult to look away.

"Do you still have it? Can you tell me, Lovi?"

Lovino groans. "Fine."

"Can I sit next to you?"

"Must you _really_?"

"_Please_ - " Antonio is pouting, and no, it does not look cute. So for the second time Lovino gives in.

"Get up here then." He reaches for the folded paper on a nearby table while Antonio makes himself comfortable under the sheets. A light touch against his leg startles him. "Do you _have _to sit all pressed up next to me?"

"Sorry." Antonio moves away, but just barely, and Lovino can still feel his warmth from where he's sitting. He just hopes Antonio can't see his face burning in the moonlight.

"All right. This - Nonno used to read it to me a lot in Italian, so I memorized it. It was by - " Lovino taps the paper and tries to remember the poet's name. "Oh, yeah. Dylan Thomas. In English it's called _Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night_."

Antonio nods eagerly, his eyes shining. "Go on."

"That's also the first line of the first stanza," Lovino says, stalling for time, because Antonio's impatience is funny to see. The boy is practically squirming to hear more.

"You really like building suspense, don't you, Lovi?"

"Of course."

Lovino turns to give him a cheeky grin, but it falters as he looks up at the other boy. Antonio's eyes are dancing and yet there's something so soft and gentle about the way he's looking at Lovino. Suddenly it's hard to breathe, and it's not because of the medicine still running through his veins.

"You're different," Antonio says, almost fondly. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like you."

Lovino quickly turns away and focuses back on his paper.

"Is that even a compliment?" he huffs, knowing his ears are turning red, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. "What the hell do you mean?"

"I mean - you're funny! In a good way," Antonio amends.

Something warms inside Lovino and he hurries, voice stumbling a little, to translate the Italian he wrote. Hopefully, he thinks, Antonio won't notice his nervousness - but he probably has anyway.

"_Do not go gentle into that good night,  
__Old age should burn and rave at close of day;  
__Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

"_Though wise men at their end know dark is right,  
__Because their words had forked no lightning they  
__Do not go gentle into that good night._

"_Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright  
__Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,  
__Rage, rage against the dying of the light_."

He can feel Antonio's gaze on him, just like before, but he doesn't turn to meet it. The poem has him in its thrall, and he can feel every word tingling through his being as he reads.

And he keeps reading.

"_Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,  
__And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,  
__Do not go gentle into that good night._

"_Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight  
__Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,  
__Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

"_And you, my father, there on the sad height,  
__Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.  
__Do not go gentle into that good night.  
__Rage, rage against the dying of the light_."

Lovino stops, and waits, but Antonio doesn't speak. He's still looking at Lovino, his face thoughtful, as though he's just understood something bigger than the two of them, bigger than the room they are in.

"Oh... so that's what it means," he says, subdued.

"Did you - did you like it?"

Antonio looks at him again and smiles. "I don't think _like _is the right word. I don't _like _it." He thinks for a moment. "I _feel _it. Don't you?"

For a second Lovino pauses, too.

"Yes," he replies finally, and the words tumble out of their own accord. "I - sometimes I get angry reading it."

"Angry?"

Lovino looks outside, at the trees' dark branches, at the moon, at the stars glittering slightly in the night.

"A long time ago, when I wasn't sick, I didn't care what it said. I didn't really _know_ what it meant back then. But now I do - and I'm angry because I do."

He takes a deep breath. Antonio watches him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Lovino almost says no, but at the last moment he realizes that yes, _yes_, he does. He has never really talked to anyone about his deepest thoughts. Not his family, because they would suffer on his behalf; not the other kids, all of whom he has pushed away for so long.

Antonio is the first person who actually _wants_ to listen.

"I'm tired, but I'm angry," he says at last. "I'm angry because - I don't know why things are like this. I don't know why I'm here, I don't know why I'm sick. All I know is I don't want any of it. I just want to run and play and be free like the other kids" - his voice cracks - "like Feliciano and everyone else. I just want to grow up and get married and have a family and live a hundred years. I thought, that's life, that's all I want. I don't know what I did to get it taken away from me."

He stops, his eyes burning, unable to speak. Antonio puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Lovi…"

"Don't - don't touch me."

Antonio doesn't listen, and grips his hand.

"Lovi, it's okay. It's okay to cry."

"It's not." He can already feel the tears sliding down his cheeks. "It's not - I can't cry. I don't know what I did, but I must've done something wrong. I shouldn't be crying." Lovino swipes at his eyes. "Don't _touch _me, Antonio, goddammit - "

"No, don't do this, Lovi," Antonio begs - and he, too, is crying. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault - never your fault."

"Then whose is it? Why does it have to be me? Why _you_? _Why us_?"

"I don't know, Lovi, I - I don't know."

Antonio pulls him closer and Lovino, for once, doesn't resist. He sobs into Antonio's skinny shoulder and grips his shirt and doesn't let go.

"I hate this. I hate everything."

"Oh, Lovi… don't say that."

"But I do," Lovino mutters.

"I know why you're angry, Lovi, I understand. But don't hate. We have so little time to waste on hate. We may only have a few months, but that doesn't mean we can't still live. It just makes every minute that much more special."

Lovino takes a shuddering breath.

"I… I guess."

Antonio pats his cheek, his touch so gentle, so kind. "We'll live like there's no tomorrow. And we'll have the best time of our lives, Lovi. We'll rage against the dying of the light - we'll fight till the very end. And when the time comes we'll sleep, and wake up in a new world, and have an even better time there. And it won't be so bad, Lovi. It won't be so bad."

It's probably at that exact moment that Lovino falls for him. He falls, just falls, and keeps falling farther and farther. And he doesn't want to get up, he doesn't want anything, he only wants this moment, just this moment. To stay in Antonio's arms and let the world spin outside, but leave them here, together, always, forever.

* * *

One day Lovino wakes to find balloons floating beside him and his family - cousins and aunts and everyone else! - gathered around his bed, with huge smiles on their faces. A pile of brightly wrapped boxes spills off the nearby table.

With a little shock, he remembers that it's his birthday.

"_Buon compleanno_!" they shout, and sing him a song, Feliciano loudest of all. Antonio, Alfred, the other kids and even the nurses are in on it. The singing and laughing can probably be heard a mile away.

Lovino feels happier than he has in a long time.

Everyone gives him presents - from Feliciano he gets a small painting, from Nonno a music box. The kids give him their drawings and other paper creations; even Alfred, who isn't feeling well, pitches in with a new drawing that looks suspiciously like Lovino in superhero costume.

And Antonio has somehow managed to get him a framed copy of his poem.

"Thank you," he tries to say, looking around at all of them. "_Thank you_," he whispers - and then the tears run down his face and he can't stop crying.

* * *

That same night, Lovino tosses and turns and can't sleep. Antonio seems to have noticed, but he must have been waiting for the right moment to speak up, because the second the other kids fall asleep he whispers, "Lovi."

"What."

"Get up for me, Lovi. I have something for you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I - I didn't give it to you earlier, because everyone was there and I only wanted you to know."

"Sounds like something special," Lovino jokes, as he watches Antonio come closer.

"It is." Antonio reaches his bed and starts climbing up. "You'll see - "

"Does it have something to do with - "

But Lovino never gets to finish his sentence, because Antonio is suddenly kissing him full on the mouth.

It doesn't feel a bit like the kisses he's read about in books. Antonio's lips are parched and a little rough, and they move clumsily over Lovino's - almost disbelievingly, as though he's never expected this would be possible. As though Lovino might suddenly break, fragile and precious like porcelain glass. But he is sincere, and gentle, and loving. He loves Lovino. Lovino loves him back.

And the kiss seems to last forever.

Only ages later does Antonio pull away; but their eyes are still connected, their hearts still linked. He smiles, takes Lovino's face in his hands and brushes away a lone tear.

"Happy birthday, Lovino Vargas," he says softly.

* * *

Two days later, Alfred, the cheerful boy Lovino has known for months, complains of a stomachache. It gets worse by afternoon, and by evening three nurses have to come into the room to check on him.

"Wish me luck," he whispers, and Lovino can't do anything except give him a fist bump and his best wishes as Alfred is taken off to the ICU.

All the children are silent that day.

Lovino says a small prayer for him, and finds the rest of the kids, including Antonio, doing the same. But when it's over he doesn't know what else to do. He sits and stares at a little peeled-off section of a nearby wall, and tries his best not to think.

He doesn't want to look at the empty bed where Alfred used to sleep.

The drawing he gave Lovino for his birthday, and the paper plane with the tomato man, are both on the table. Finally Lovino picks them up and places them in his lap. For a long time he gazes at them, at the clumsy little marker strokes forming Alfred's favorite word, HERO; at the surprisingly detailed superhero designs; at the happy faces drawn everywhere.

Alfred has to get through this and recover. He has to.

_He has to_.

* * *

Three hours later, when the sky outside has begun to grow dark, everyone is still awake. Waiting.

Lovino is among them and he is the first to see Nurse Bella come into the room, her face impossibly tired and her eyes red-rimmed.

"Kids," she says haltingly. "Kids - I'm sorry, but Alfred won't be here anymore."

And they watch as she runs outside and slams the door behind her. They listen to the sounds of sobbing from the hall. And they understand.

Lovino, meanwhile, stares at nothing in particular, and then he lies down and covers his face with his hands.

* * *

It has become a pattern for him, to have private conversations with Antonio at night. But tonight is the first night Lovino doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want to move. He doesn't want to do anything, because if he does then the dream he is living in will be broken, and reality will take its place.

And he can't take it if it happens.

Still Antonio calls to him in the darkness.

"Lovi," he whispers. "Lovi - are you all right?"

He doesn't want to answer.

"Lovi..."

At last Antonio gives up and comes over to him, climbing up the bed and lying down next to Lovino under the covers.

"Lovi," he says gently. "Lovi, look at me." He cups Lovino's face in his hands and caresses his cheeks, and unwillingly Lovino glances up into those green eyes.

"What do you want?" he rasps.

"I just want to be next to you." Antonio smiles at him, a small sad smile. "I couldn't stand seeing you like this, and being so far away."

Lovino shuts his eyes tight.

"Do you want to talk, Lovi?"

Fingers are wiping away his tears now, tears he didn't even know had begun to flow. Lovino wants to shake his head, but his whole mind is screaming and he can't, he can't -

"I'm a bad person," he says at last. "I'm a piece of shit."

"No, no, Lovi, _no_," Antonio whispers, his face aghast. "You aren't. You never are. You never did anything wrong."

"I never shed a tear for the ones before him. I never even tried to talk to them. And now I cry because Alfred's gone. Tell me I'm not a bad person."

"Lovi…"

"It's true."

"You still_ felt_ for them, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I did. And it fucking _hurt_. Do you know how many I've seen? They come in here, they lie down for a while, they get worse and they go to the ICU. And they never come back - _they never come back_. Do you _know _how much it hurts, to know that the same thing's going to happen to me? Do you know?"

"Yes, yes… I know."

"I'm such a worthless little shit."

He's crying openly again, and Antonio pulls him to his chest and holds him tight.

"Lovi, don't say that… you're the best person I've ever met."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not," Antonio whispers, his lips brushing Lovino's forehead. "I know it. I saw it from the moment I met you, when I first looked into your eyes. You're a fighter, Lovino Vargas. You're strong, you have a kind heart. You're a knight in shining armor."

"I love you, Antonio."

Antonio's fingers trace a soft pattern on Lovino's cheek.

"I love you too, Lovino. So much. So much."

They stay in each other's arms as long as they can, and their frail hearts beat as one, and Lovino can't help thinking, _please please don't ever leave me_.

* * *

Lovino insists on going to Alfred's funeral.

On that day the sky is dim and gray and overcast, the air still. Because Nonno doesn't want him to tire, Lovino attends the memorial service on a wheelchair. He sits with the rows of quiet people dressed in black, and he sees the flowers surrounding the small small coffin in the center. He doesn't say anything, and he doesn't hear anything. He sits alone and stiff and strangely dry-eyed.

But at the very end, when it comes time to leave, he goes to the grave and pauses, the bouquet of flowers growing limp in his hand. He sets it down in front of the stone and looks at it for a second. Then he reaches into his pocket, takes out the paper plane and the drawing, and puts them side by side with the flowers.

* * *

He cries the whole way back to the hospital.

* * *

The day he realizes two months have passed is the day it decides to rain hard outside. He stays in bed, wrapped up in his blanket to ward off the chill, and listens to the pattering on the roof while the other children play games with each other.

It is ten AM and Antonio is still asleep, the covers partially slipping from his shoulders. Slowly Lovino gets up and goes over and tucks in the blanket tighter around him. He stands there and looks down - at Antonio's peaceful closed eyes, his tired face, his pale cheeks, thinner than before. The needle in his arm, injecting him with the poison that is supposed to keep him alive.

Two months have gone; Lovino has two more left, Antonio has one.

He doesn't want to think about it, he _doesn't_, but when he looks at that fragile sleeping face again, something chokes up inside and he has to do his best to hide it.

"Lovi?"

Antonio's green eyes flutter open and he sits up with an effort, taking in Lovino's unhappy pinched face.

"Lovi," he says again, and reaches for Lovino's hand with spindly fingers. "Is something wrong?"

"No - no... you need to stop _sleeping _so much, you lazy bum."

"Sorry... I guess I was just tired." But Antonio sees Lovino's expression and instantly understands. His face grows a little sadder and he looks down, green eyes shaded by dark lashes. "Lovi... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset, dammit."

Antonio reaches for his other hand and holds it tight too.

"Don't worry about me. I'm going to be all right. Okay?"

"Okay."

Lovino has to swallow hard, and he feels his eyes sting despite himself. For a long moment Antonio gazes at him.

"Come here," he says at last. "Come here and sit next to me."

And Lovino feels the small pain in his chest grow worse, because Antonio isn't strong enough anymore to get up from his bed.

He climbs up and sits with the Spanish boy and holds his hand. And they stay like that for the rest of the day.

* * *

The next shock comes some time later, on another cloudy morning in May. They are sitting outside in the garden and watching the sky, Antonio leaning against him just a little. Even though they can hear the other children, it is oddly peaceful.

"Lovino."

It is serious this time, because Antonio is calling him by his full name. Lovino looks up and meets the Spanish boy's eyes.

"What is it?"

"I... I have something to tell you," Antonio whispers.

"Go on."

"My - my mother wants to take me back to Spain in three days."

The world stops and Lovino's heart stops and he stops breathing for a split second.

"What?"

"I'm sorry." Antonio looks thoroughly miserable. "It was yesterday she told me, and I didn't know how to tell you, Lovi, I didn't want you to be upset, but - I'm so sorry. I don't want to go either."

"Didn't you tell her that?"

"I did. But she still wants me to go. She wants me to stay in Spain now, until - "

"It's all right," Lovino cuts him off. "It's all right. I'll write you letters and everything. Don't worry about it. It's fine."

He gets up and walks back inside as fast as he can, but the tears get the better of him anyway.

* * *

Every night after that, Lovino gets up and climbs into Antonio's bed. He lies down, feeling Antonio's warmth next to him, and then Antonio pulls him close and kisses him hard and doesn't let go.

"I love you," he whispers against Lovino's lips. "I love you - "

And Lovino cries, doesn't stop crying, because his heart is breaking and there is nothing he can do, nothing he can do.

* * *

It rains hard on the day Lovino opens his eyes and turns to see the empty bed beside him.

Slowly he gets up and goes over and wraps himself in the blanket. He rests on the pillow that still smells faintly like Antonio, and breathes, and closes his eyes. Pretending that the space next to him is still occupied by a certain Spanish boy, and that the warmth of the blankets are Antonio's arms around him.

* * *

He doesn't do much after Antonio leaves; he stays in bed as usual, staring listlessly out at the sheets of water pouring down in front of the windows. He looks out at the trees, remembers a pair of kind green eyes, and that is the extent of his daily thoughts.

Sometimes, when he feels a little less dull and more awake, he folds paper planes - and paper cranes - for the other children, just to see their smiles.

He greets Nurse Bella politely, if a bit stiffly and absently, and the way her face lights up is nice to see.

And even though he feels tired most of the time, he receives and opens the first envelope with shaky hands. And he holds Antonio's letter away from his face so his tears won't fall on it.

_Dearest Lovino_,

_How are you? I'm all right, but I miss you so much. We arrived in Madrid today and we went back to our old house, the one I lived in until I was three. Mother talked to a lot of family but I didn't. I'm in my room right now and the sun makes the walls look like gold. It reminds me of your eyes. I wish you were here, Lovi. I wish I could hold you and kiss you again and never leave. _

_I love you so much, Lovino._

He stops there because his vision blurs and he can no longer see the page.

* * *

Whenever Feliciano and Nonno visit, they stay longer and talk more - about school, about life, about everything outside of the children's hospital. Lovino finds himself grateful for the distraction.

Except for that one time when Feliciano spies the empty bed beside him, and unwittingly asks, "Where did Antonio go?"

He quickly remembers never to say that again.

* * *

The letters keep coming, one every three days, and Lovino keeps writing back.

In the beginning Antonio mostly describes Spain, but after a while he starts sending pictures too. One of them shows him in front of the Royal Palace; he's wearing a loose T-shirt and jeans, standing by himself and grinning right at the camera, right at Lovino, like he has the world at his feet.

Lovino stares at the picture in his hand, and even though his heart aches at the sight of that familiar face, for a split second he smiles too.

And he sleeps with the pictures next to him.

* * *

A few more weeks go by and then a month has passed. Antonio still sends letters on time and Lovino is comforted.

Then suddenly, three days pass and Lovino waits, but the nurses tell him he doesn't have mail. Three more days pass and still nothing. Three more days.

Lovino tries to brush it off as nothing, tells himself that Antonio must have run out of paper, or his parents must have told him to take a break from letter-writing. Or maybe Lovino himself had written the wrong address the last time and Antonio might still be waiting for his letter.

He sends off another one, but there is still no reply.

The days turn into weeks, and Lovino grows more and more anxious. He badgers the nurses constantly, and keeps asking for news of Antonio, even though no one has any. At one point he becomes frantic and tries to run out the door, in case Antonio has come back and is waiting for him.

But there never is anyone standing outside.

* * *

Nurse Bella comes in one evening and quietly lays an envelope in his hand. When Lovino sees it, sees the familiar handwriting on the front, the tears pour forth again and he opens it. The date is from several weeks ago.

_Dearest Lovino,_

_If you're reading this, then that means I'm not here anymore. The doctors told me today I only have a few more weeks left. I didn't know how to tell you, so I wrote this, and I told my mother to send it to you if I didn't make it. I'm sorry, Lovi, I'm so sorry. I wish I could live long enough to see you again... I wish so much._

_Lovino, my love for you is eternal. I loved you from the moment I met you, I love you now and I'll love you even when I'm gone. But if the heavens are kind - I'll be with you all the time. I'll be there on the brightest days and the darkest nights; I'll be around you and I'll whisper your name when the wind blows. I'll kiss you when you sleep and I'll hold you until you awaken. _

_Oh, my dearest Lovi, my knight in shining armor. I don't know where I'd be if I didn't meet you... There's so much I still want to say, but I don't know how. But please don't be sad, Lovi, because I'm not really gone. I'll be waiting for you, and we'll meet again.  
_

_-Antonio Fernandez Carriedo_

* * *

The hills are silent in the early morning when the sun rises. He sits, alone, his back against a tree, watching the sky turn from gray to pale red. The verdant grass waves slightly around him.

He watches the horizon, watches the small band of gold over the horizon. Slowly the sun climbs over the great dark mountains, over the shadowy hills, and its radiance spreads along the ground. Then, breaking free from the earth's hold, the fiery sphere rises into the sky.

Lovino watches it, looks almost full into the sun, and feels the warm light envelop him like a blanket. He sees the first birds come out, listens to them as they sing their morning songs. He runs a hand along the grass, the green blades parting easily beneath his touch.

A gentle breeze blows and brushes past Lovino's face like soft fingers, and he looks up in the direction of the wind.

"Antonio," he whispers.

The wind picks up the name and carries it away, away. He can hear it echoing through the quiet morning air, and after a while something seems to come back.

"_Lovino_."

He lies down on the ground and closes his eyes.


End file.
